


Making Friends.

by Vander38



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23479711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vander38/pseuds/Vander38
Summary: Sometimes, friends start as enemies.
Relationships: Female Cadash/Sera, Female Inquisitor/Sera
Kudos: 8





	Making Friends.

“Raining, why is it always raining? You know where it doesn’t rain? The cities!” The others by now could tune out Sera’s complaining, Blackwall had a smile on his face, despite everything the blonde elf was right, in a city there was shelter, fire and warm food, out here in the arse end of Crestwood there was just cold, wet misery. He was glad for his thick gambeson.

Dorian had no comment to offer, and Inquisitor Cadash was too out of breath to bother answering. Not that she was unfit, but her shorter legs had to work harder than the others on the slippery hill.

They reached the top of the hill and found their objective, an old smugglers cave, half rotten planks stood in the entrance, a doorway flickered with the light of a small fire.

Malika drew her sword, a great dragon handled blade, three feet of steel shone in the rain, lightning cracking up and down from the runes forged into the metal. There was a wet thump as Blackwall slid the heavy shield from his back and he drew his short axe, Sera drew her arrows, shaking them to get some water out of the goose feather fletching. Her bow was still covered, the rain would make it useless unless she wanted to hit something with it.

They rushed the entrance, and saw it was empty.

“I heard you breathing a mile away.” Said in a slow drawl, Fereldan but with a touch of Kirkwall in his voice, like a man who lived far from home for too long.

He stepped from the shadows, long boots kicking dust, his spurs dragging sparks, his dragon skin tail coat closed tight over his mail. He lowered his hood to reveal the face of the Champion, the great warrior mage of Kirkwall.

“Hawke.”

“Cadash.”

The terse exchange of two fighters meeting as friends.

“Who are you?” The educated voice of Dorian sounds as he tries to wring out his robe.

“That’s the Champion of Kirkwall.” The slow deep tones of Blackwall.

“Who?” The young voice of Sera.

“I’ve not heard of me either.” The Champion was known for a few things, his wit was fairly high on that list.

“Hawke is your contact here? I would rather not wait till I’m arse deep in water.” Cadash asked impatiently.

“He’s here, at the back of the cave,” Hawke replied.

“You’re sure?” Cadash asks.

“Does a Mabari shit in the street?” Hawke says with a smirk

“How colloquial.” Dorian again, getting a smirk from Blackwall, hidden in his great beard.

“Oh I’ve heard of you, some toff in Kirkwall, all lordy and shit,” Sera again, her great bow now strung, quivering with excited tension, Sera not the bow.

A small bow, “That’s me, toff, smuggler, barfly and occasionally a Champion, Garret Hawke at your service.” His tone was light and his smile was broad and genuine, he offered a deep bow.

“C’mon, let's just move.” Cadash said, getting impatient and cold.

They fell in ranks, Cadash in front, Dorian then Blackwall and at the back, Sera and Hawke who used his glaive staff as a support.

“Stop pointing that thing at me.” A hissed angry whisper.

“Said the sister to the Templar.” Hawke quipped.

“I mean it, keep it away.” Sera hissed.

“As you wish.” Hawke said, switching hands on his staff.

“Better, and yeah I’ve heard of you, have a big house and servants and stuff, that Orana says you’re nice though.” Sera whispered.

“Orana said that? I’m genuinely touched.” Hawke says with a surprised smile.

“Yeah well lucky for you otherwise You would need to watch yourself, I got my eye on you.” Sera said, happy to get her warning to a noble out in the open she sped up slightly.

“But not on where you are going,” Hawke muttered into his beard.

“Friggin shit and rocks and shit,” Sera cursed as she rubbed her side which had walked into a stone pillar.

“You know where there aren’t stalagmites? The city!” Sera complained aloud.

“Stalactite.” Hawke corrected.

“You’re a stalactite.” Sera replied instantly.

“Well I do hang down quite low” Hawke replied to a choked laugh from Dorian.

“Yeah well your face hangs down.” Sera said.

“It’s a beard.” From Hawke in a hurt tone.

“It’s crap, Blackwall has a beard, your face just hangs down.” Sera said.

“I’m glad you like it.” The slow voice of Blackwall.

“Shut up all of you.” The terse voice of Cadash.

A week later.

“Frigging sand in cracks and places, you know where there isn’t sand? The cities!” Again they ignored her, Out of breath, and boiling in the heat of the Western desert. Blackwall had to agree with Sera, in the cities there was less sand, and more cold water, out here in the arse end of nowhere there was just hot, sandy misery. He was regretting his gambeson.

They reached the top of the hill and saw Hawke, coat open and flapping dramatically in the breeze.

“Glad you could join us.” He said with a smile on his face.

“Are they here?” An impatient question, slightly out of breath from the climb, again, short legs work hard.

“Half a mile ahead, see the ruins, they’re there.” Hawke said, pointing.

“Get as close as we can by stealth, then hit them hard.” Cadash ordered as she drew her blade.

Blackwall eased his shield off his shoulder, and tweaked the axe in his belt. A grunt as Sera strung her bow, Dorian wiped his brow with a handkerchief, flicking sweat away.

“Gotta love gearing up moments.” The snide comment from Hawke.

“Do you ever not talk?” Sera asked unkindly.

“I even talk in my sleep, Merrill keeps a little book.” Hawke said mildly.

“Who’s Merrill? Sera asked.

“My girlfriend,” A fondness in his voice as they moved towards the ruin, again Hawke and Sera at the back.

“She a toff?” From Sera.

“Only by association, she prefers the Alienage.” Hawke replied casually.

“Oh elfy then.” Sera spat on the sand.

“Hate me if you like, but don’t hate Merrill until you meet her.” Hawke said coldly, staring hard at Sera.

“You’re not worth hating.” Sera said just as coldly.

“But I am worth keeping an eye on?” He said snidely.

“I will always have my eye on you.” She replied speeding up.

“But still not on where you are going.” Hawke muttered into his beard.

“Pissing pillars and shit piss,” Sera cursed as she rubbed her knee where it hit the old pillar.

“You know where there aren’t old pillars and shit? The cities!” Sera said angrily.

“I will turn this column around if you don’t behave.” Cadash shout-whispered to the group at large.

8 days later.

Comfortable chairs, old maps on a great table.

Hawke stood with a long stick, poking at parts of the map as he finished his report.

The fight in the desert had been brutal, and he had followed the enemy to their fortress on foot.

“How do we take it?”   
Cadash asked the group.

“It’s stood firm against Darkspawn since the second Blight,”   
The Nevarran voice of Josephine stated.

“So it won’t be resistant to modern siege weaponry.”   
Cullen said with a gleam in his eye.

Hawke tapped the map, “This hill is within range of the fortress, you should site your artillery there,” 

He said as Cullen made notes.

“That’s stupid,”   
Sera said loudly.

“You’re stupid,”   
Hawke’s louder reply.

“Your face is stupid,”   
Sera even louder.

“Well you smell funny,”   
Hawke’s loudest reply.

A loud slam on the table as Cadash whacked a heavy book down.

“Enough, if you can’t both behave like adults then get out!”   
She screamed at the pair.

“She started it.”  
“He started it.”

Said in unison.

“I don’t care who started it, I am finishing it, both of you sit down, shut up until prompted and if you so much as look at each other again I will put you both in a cell.”

A long silence followed.

“Yes your worship.”   
Both said at the same time.

They sat at opposite ends of the room as Cadash inspected the map, looking up in time to just miss Hawke sticking his tongue out at Sera.

“Why is Hawke’s plan stupid Sera?”   
Cadash asked slowly.

“Because if you put flingers there they can shoot it before you can shoot them, put the flinger things onto the other hill, they can’t hit it but you can hit them.”  
Sera said quickly.

Cullen made a few notes and sums, “We can hit the gate area from there and sweep some of the walls, maybe enough to silence the counter battery fire.”

“How long?” Cadash asked.

“Three days to build and site the trebuchets, four days to hurt them enough for an assault to be practical.” Cullen said quickly.

“Right, do it.”  
Cadash ordered, stabbing the map with a knife, pointedly ignoring Hawke’s eyeroll.

Three weeks later

Cadash walked through the sick bay, most of the wounded were back on their feet, only the worst remained from the siege. She shuddered at the memories, the bad dreams would last but she would survive.

At one end Hawke lay on his bed, his chest still thickly bound, “How are you feeling?” She asked kindly.

“Homesick.” His slightly sullen reply.

“Healers tell me a couple more days, then you should be up again.” Cadash said as she sat down.

“Yeah, I got lucky.”   
His reply, his wound was bad but could have been so much worse, even with the broken rib that pierced his lung. But magical healing was well, magical.

He took a bite out of a muffin, “You know, Sera gave me this, said she misjudged me,” He said as he chewed.

“Sera apologised?”   
Cadash asked with an involuntary smile at the mention of Sera, they had been growing closer since Adamant.

“Not as such, said that I wasn’t too bad for a toff.” He clarified.

“In her world she may as well have proposed marriage,”   
Cadash replied fondly.

“Yeah that won’t happen, first Merrill would kill me, then Sera, then dig me up to kill me again, second, she likes you too much, third Isabela would cut my balls off to use as a coin pouch.”  
Hawke said swallowing a large mouthful of muffin.

“She would?” Cadash asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yup she promised me that if ever I did anything to upset Merrill she would castrate me, she’s done it before to other men, has a purse made from the foreskin of a man who upset her.” He said.

Cadash choked on her tea, “You’re joking.”

“Nope, I’ve seen it, if you stroke it it becomes a briefcase.” Hawke said with a wide grin.

Cadash shook her head with a smile.

“I’m glad you and Sera have made good,”   
She said warmly,

“She’s difficult but worth it.”

She added, Hawke just smiled, he knew the feeling.

Three days later.

“You’re certain I can’t persuade you to stay?”  
Cadash asked.

“Nope I gotta get to Weisshaupt, then to Kirkwall, Aveline will be having kittens without me there.”   
Hawke replied as he pulled on his heavy coat.

“Well safe travels to you, and if ever you need help,”   
Cadash left the sentence hanging.

“I appreciate that Malika, thank you.”

She walked him towards the great gate of Skyhold, “Malika, if I may ask a favour? Would you be able to give this to Sera?”

He asked, holding a small envelope.

She took it, “Of course.”

“One other thing, forgive my forwardness, but Sera and yourself.” He began.

“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.” Malika said quickly.

“Not a question, more some advice I learned from Merrill about Elves, ear tips.”  
He winked as he said it.

“Ear tips?”

“Ear tips!”

He shouldered his staff as the gate opened, “I’ll send word from Weisshaupt.” He said in parting, leaving Cadash standing confused by the gate.

After a moment she made her way across the yard to the tavern and up a staircase to Sera’s room. 

“Inky!” A happy squeal and a big cuddle.

“Hi Sera, Hawke left this for you.”

She handed the envelope over and Sera looked at it warily, “Why?   
She asked.

Cadash shrugged.

She opened it, read with her lips mouthing the words, then dropped it with a yell.

“I’m going to kill him.”  
She said without anger as she grabbed a jar of insects and leapt through her window.

“He’s already gone.”   
Cadash called to no avail, she sighed and sat on the sofa, and curiosity took hold as she picked up the dropped letter. She smiled as she read.

“Dearest Sera.

You are a big butt and you stink of farts.

Sincerely Garret Hawke.

PS” then a detailed drawing of a pair of buttocks holding a bow with a fart cloud floating above.

Cadash shook her head and giggled, glad no one was there to see.


End file.
